


it's a bit awkward, we're a bit awkward

by diminiecakes



Series: commissions! [9]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Cat Owner San, Dog Owner Wooyoung, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Unintentional flirting, san and yunho are friends, san hates woo at first but it's just cause he's hot and has a dog, sorry i couldn't fit jongho yeosang and mingi in this ;;, yunho: comedic relief big gay baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22806763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diminiecakes/pseuds/diminiecakes
Summary: “She’s smart as a whip so it’s been thankfully pretty easy,” Wooyoung says, shrugging. “You should come over sometime to see the way she spins around before rolling over.”Something suddenly makes San’s shoulders hike and his cheeks flush as he realizes they’ve been small-talking, which is scarily close to flirting.“That’s—” San starts.***and they were neighbors.Russian translation here!
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong
Series: commissions! [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1001877
Comments: 8
Kudos: 179





	it's a bit awkward, we're a bit awkward

**Author's Note:**

> commission for @astroxnot and @sujiminies !
> 
> some songs:  
>  **ding ding ding by loona, cat & dog by txt, pit-a-pat by chungha, a night to remember by hsm cast**

**AUGUST**

It’s 8am, yet San finds himself staring up at his ceiling, half awake but unable to return to sleep. Through the paper-thin walls of his apartment, he can hear, nonstop—

Barking. Endless, _endless_ barking from the apartment next door.

Every so often, the barking will stop, long enough for San to (foolishly) think _Is it over?_ , already preparing to roll over and conk out for the remaining hour before he’ll need to be up for work. But then, just as his eyes are slowly blinking shut—

The barking will resume, somehow louder than each time before it.

San slips his arm out from beneath his covers, his hand going to the bedside table to slap around, feeling for his phone. Once in hand, he raises it to his face, the screen dim but nonetheless eye-stinging as he checks the time.

_8:23_

At this rate, he’s not going back to sleep any time soon. It’s with a heavy, sufficiently _annoyed_ grunt that he heaves himself up, climbing out of bed and slipping his feet into his house slippers.

His eyes feel sticky and heavy with exhaustion, struggling to stay open as he marches out of his bedroom, through his living room, and to his front door.

The barking continues the whole way.

When San exits his apartment, he’s peeved to find the barking much quieter and muffled compared to inside his apartment.

_Just my luck_ , he thinks with a grumble.

The barking comes from the apartment to the right of his so, with all the confidence of a man deprived of his right to sleep peacefully, he strides up to the door and knocks hard with his fist.

He waits a beat, then two. No answer. The barking stops for a moment, only to resume, sounding much closer to the door this time.

Now San can feel rage boiling inside him, so he knocks again, harder.

“ _Hey_ ,” he shouts. There’s scratching on the opposite side of the door, and the barking takes on a tone more like a howl. San grits his teeth, the beginning of a headache pulsing at his temple.

He knocks again, his hardest yet. “ _Open up, fucker!_ ”

Finally, the barking pauses as the lock on the door beeps then disengages. The door’s swinging open, and San’s already opening his mouth, complaint ready on his tongue when he notices—

Abs? Or, no, not abs in a traditional sense, but a toned _bare_ stomach that shines slick with condensation. 

San’s eyes, which had, for some reason, dropped down before he could speak, snap back up and the complaint he’d had ready momentarily dies on his tongue.

_Shit_. His neighbor is _drenched_ , dark hair plastered to his face and rivets of water streaming down his shoulders and chest—good god, his chest is _huge_ —but with a bright neon towel wrapped around his waist.

“Sorry. Was in the shower,” his neighbor says. His voice is smooth, though pinched with a tone of apology to match the shy nervous furrow of his eyebrow.

San’s supposed to say something here. Something...if only he could remember what...he’s supposed to say—

A small yip of a bark draws San’s attention down to his neighbor’s legs, in between which stands a golden Shiba Inu, and his face immediately falls into a scowl.

“Your _dog_ woke me up,” says San with a sneer, lifting his gaze back to level a proper glare. Down by his neighbor’s legs, the dog in question practically vibrates with excitement, tail swinging back and forth vigorously. “You realize it’s eight in the morning? Some people are still asleep then.”

San’s neighbor’s shoulders hike as his face flushes. “ _Ah_ , sorry. I only just got her a few days ago, so she’s still not entirely trained—”

“So train her,” San says, like it’s obvious. “That should probably be your biggest concern right now.”

Then, in an unexpected move, San’s neighbor rolls his eyes with a laugh.

“She’s a puppy,” he explains. “I can’t just _train_ her. It takes time.”

“So _make time_ ,” San says, louder and angrier than he’d been intending to. It echoes in the empty hallway, and for a moment, the two of them just stand there, staring one another down.

Then, his neighbor cracks a smile—and _Damn it_ , it’s a stupidly handsome smile.

“I’m Wooyoung,” he says. Then, he reaches down to scoop up his dog. “And _this_ is Puchi.” He says this while squishing the tiny Shiba’s face against his cheek, smiling wider as the dog wriggles and licks a strip across his skin.

San wrinkles his nose. “I’m San. And I have classes starting soon, so I’d appreciate it if you figured out how to deal with her sooner rather than later,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest as the tense moment passes.

His neighbor— _Wooyoung_ —eyes San for a moment as he bends to put Puchi back on the floor. “You go to SNU?”

San’s spine straightens as he lifts his chin. “I’m a teaching assistant, yeah.”

Wooyoung’s stupid boyish smile returns as he practically _jumps_ back up. “Me too! Well, I’m not a teaching assistant, I just go to SNU too.” San notes that Wooyoung has nearly the same amount of energy as a dog, even at 8 in the morning. “Maybe we’ll see each other around.”

_I hope not_. “I hope so,” says San, his voice too sarcastic and saccharine to sound genuine.

“I’ll try to make sure she doesn’t disturb your beauty sleep anymore, _San-ssi_ ,” Wooyoung says, the door slowly inching closed.

San rolls his eyes. “Just ‘hyung' is fine.”

Wooyoung laughs, cheerful and melodic. “Alright, alright. Have a good day, San- _hyung_.” Then, with a cheeky smile and a fucking _wink_ , Wooyoung shuts the door and San’s left standing alone in the hallway, his cheeks suddenly warm.

With a shake of his head, San stalks back to the open door of his apartment, shutting it carefully but still forcefully. His cheeks are regrettably still hot, and he rubs the flat of his palms over his face a few times, as if to scrub the memory of his shirtless neighbor and his _stupid_ hot smile from his mind.

Something soft brushes against San’s leg and he immediately dips down to scoop up his cat.

“Darong,” he whines, pressing his face into the side of the grey cat. “Can you believe our neighbor is a _dog person_?”

Darong mewls, wiggling in San’s arms as he tries climbing onto his owner’s shoulder. San sighs, crossing from the front door to the hallway leading towards the bedrooms. Along the way, he deposits Darong by his kitty bed near the kitchen.

Just when San’s heading back into his room, the door to the bathroom swings open and his roommate steps out, brushing his teeth and scrubbing at one of his eyes.

“You heard that dog barking?” Yunho asks with a yawn. “Woke me up, like, five minutes before my alarm.”

San’s face flushes again as images of Wooyoung’s bare chest and stomach flood his mind. “I took care of it,” he mumbles.

Yunho smiles sleepily, flashing a thumbs up. “That’s our San-ah. Taking care of shit.”

**SEPTEMBER**

**yunho**

[shopping list.jpg]

**san**

god your handwriting is shit

**yunho**

my handwriting is perfectly fine, thank you >:(

San smirks, swiping back to the photo of the shopping list. He’s managed to pick up the majority of the items so far—only stuff for Darong being left.

As if on cue, a wanton _meow_ comes from the carrier in San’s other hand.

“I know, I know,” says San, pocketing his phone. He raises the carrier a bit so he can peek inside at Darong, who’s woken up from his nap on the drive over and now paws absently at the metal bars. “We’ll get you all nice and pretty with Seonghwa-ssi, won’t we?” Darong yawns, then meows again, and San fits a finger through the bars to rub along the fur of one of the cat’s paws.

He locks the door to his car as he heads toward the entrance to the pet store. Once inside he heads to the groomer section, searching for Seonghwa’s familiar head of platinum blonde hair, when—

“ _San-hyung!_ ”

San freezes. _No…_

Slowly, he turns his head in the direction of the voice. 

Standing at the groomer’s counter is _him_ , dressed in the pet store’s signature blue apron, a dopey smile on his face. His hair, which had been dark the last time San had seen him, is a light shade of purple, practically lavender.

“...Wooyoung-ah?” San says, tone too surprised to sound bored or annoyed.

“Didn’t realize you shopped here,” says Wooyoung, setting down the clipboard he’d been holding. In doing so, he reveals the name tag pinned to his shirt, _Wooyoung_ written in kiddish font and surrounded by cartoon paws.

“Didn’t realize you _worked_ here,” San says, too late to catch himself before speaking out loud.

Wooyoung laughs. “Yeah, I started a little bit ago, around the time I got Puchi.”

San taste immediately sours a bit at the mention of the dog. “Right. Your _dog_.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Wooyoung chastises playfully. “She’s been better about not barking, hasn’t she?”

“Marginally,” says San. Which...is _true_ , but a bit more downplayed than the reality of it. Not even two days after their encounter in the hallway and first meeting, Wooyoung seemed to have taken San’s words to heart, and San hadn’t been woken up by any misplaced barking ever since. “Seems like you’ve been training her.”

“She’s smart as a whip so it’s been thankfully pretty easy,” Wooyoung says, shrugging. “You should come over sometime to see the way she spins around before rolling over.”

Something suddenly makes San’s shoulders hike and his cheeks flush as he realizes they’ve been _small-talking_ , which is scarily close to _flirting_.

“ _That’s_ —” San starts.

“So!” says Wooyoung at the same time, and San catches sight of the tips of the other man’s ears practically glowing right red. “ _Uh_ , what, _ah_...What brings you here?”

San clears his throat, the flush on his cheeks relaxing as he raises Darong’s carrier. “I normally come here to get my cat groomed.”

Then Wooyoung narrows his eyes, practically looking San up and down. “I _knew it_.”

San blinks, faltering. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve always given me cat-person vibes,” Wooyoung says, that stupid handsome dopey smile returning to his face, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Explains why you hate Puchi so much.”

“I do not _hate_ her,” San says with a dramatic roll of his eyes. He sets the carrier down on the counter. “I just...Well, she could be quieter, like my Darong.”

Wooyoung chuckles, rolling his own eyes. “Cat people.”

“ _Yah_ ,” San warns, though he can feel his mouth fighting against the urge to crack a smile. Instead, he swings out, landing a light punch to Wooyoung’s free arm. “Don’t talk bad about your hyung and his pet.”

“Wouldn’t _dream_ of it,” says Wooyoung. 

He reaches forward then, taking hold of the top of Darong’s carrier. He’s careful as he opens the front. “Hi there, Darong-ah,” he says quietly, reaching in with the practice of someone who’s handled plenty of cats. San watches, a little gobsmacked, as Wooyoung removes Darong from the carrier without a peep from the cat. Wooyoung looks up, shaking his bangs out of his face. “You’re right, he’s very quiet.”

San nods, coughing and clearing his throat as he looks away. Something about seeing Wooyoung so casually holding Darong has his mind doing crazy things, like conjuring up domestic images of Wooyoung shirtless and sleeping in San’s bed. He needs to stop watching sappy romantic dramas with Yunho, he decides. 

“Seonghwa-ssi normally washes him and clips his nails,” he mutters, swallowing hard. “And I normally go...shop for a few things in the meantime.”

Wooyoung moves Darong to one arm then salutes with his free hand. “You got it, hyung.”

San leaves the groomer’s area soon after, heading to grab a cart and search the store for the few things still left on the shopping list. He grabs two bags of dry food, more kitty litter, a few extra toys, taking his time as he makes his way through the store. After about forty minutes of wandering, including some time spent weighing two types of shampoo for Darong and even more time just staring at the wall of fish for sale, San’s name is called on the store speakers, and he makes his way back to the groomer.

It definitely comes as a shock when San finds Seonghwa at the counter instead of Wooyoung.

“Where’s Wooyoung?” San asks.

Seonghwa looks up from ringing up the transaction. “His shift ended in the middle of washing Darong. He wanted to keep going, but I sent him home,” he says. “He told me to tell you that Darong was a joy and you should be proud of your cat son.” He says the last bit with a playful smirk.

“Oh…” San doesn’t know why he feels so...disappointed. For fuck’s sake, he’ll probably run into the guy while going to do laundry later tonight.

It’s not until San has paid for his cart of things and Darong’s grooming, everything packed into the car for the drive home, that San realizes it’s because he hadn’t been able to properly say goodbye.

**OCTOBER**

San’s still putting the finishing touches on the dribble of blood at the corner of his mouth when Yunho kicks open the door to the bathroom.

“ _Jesus fucking_ —” San shouts, dropping the lip liner into the sink.

“Dude,” Yunho says, looking festive and sacrilegious in his sexy priest costume. In his arms is Darong, who they’d managed to dress in a semi-convincing Stormtrooper costume after twenty minutes of coaxing and non-stop treats. “The party started, like, fifteen minutes ago. At this rate, all the candy’s gonna be gone by the time we get down.”

San picks up the dropped lip liner, holding it near his mouth as he examines the meticulously drawn trail of blood. “Does this look convincing to you?” he asks, gesturing towards his mouth.

“If I say yes, will you finish getting your ass ready so we can leave?”

“Maybe.”

“Then no,” deadpans Yunho.

San grins, capping the lip liner and setting it on the counter. “Perfect. I’m ready.”

“ _Finally_ ,” sighs Yunho, darting out of the way to avoid an oncoming flailed kick from San.

When they finally arrive downstairs, the building party is in full swing. Some of the older residents in the building had transformed the lobby area, hanging orange and purple streams everywhere from the walls to the half-burnt out chandelier. A long table of finger foods and candy is set up near the mailboxes, and shabby cut outs of different monsters are pinned up to the walls. Holiday-appropriate music plays from a bluetooth speaker on the end of the table near the absurdly huge cauldron-shaped punch bowl.

Almost immediately, Yunho thrusts Darong into San’s arms, darting for the snack table. It’s only when San notices Hongjoong, a friend of theirs who lives a floor below them, dressed as a pirate and manning the food table does he start to put two and two together. He shakes his head when he sees Yunho make a beeline for him, calling his name and showing off his costume as Hongjoong’s eyes go wide with amused terror.

“Your other dad is a disgrace to homosexuals and an idiot,” San murmurs to Darong, who’s taken to licking his paws.

“ _Oh wow_.”

San turns at the sound of a familiar voice. “ _Oh_ ,” he says, his mouth falling open involuntarily.

Wooyoung’s dressed in a bright red jersey with a large white 14 on the front, matching basketball shorts, like...some character from an American film, San thinks. And even though he may not recognize the character, he _does_ recognize that Wooyoung’s arms are out and massive and carrying his dog, who’s dressed as Stormtrooper—

“Awww, they match!” Beside San and Wooyoung, a young girl and her mom have stopped, the little girl dressed as a princess and clapping excitedly as she looks between the two of them. 

“ _Chaesoo_ ,” her mom chastises, tugging her arm as if to pull her away. The mom looks up, face pinched with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No worries!” says Wooyoung, speaking up first. Puchi barks gently in his arms, as if to agree with him. “My friend and I didn’t plan this, so it’s kind of funny.”

San realizes belatedly that he is, in fact, the “friend” Wooyoung is referring to and shakes his head to snap out of the thoughts of digging his nails hard into Wooyoung’s bicep that had been running through his mind.

“Uh _-huh_ ,” San says, voice cracking.

“What're their names?” Chaesoo asks, eyes big and bright as she looks up at them hopefully.

Wooyoung kneels down—making the muscles in his legs bulge, the horny corridor of San’s brain can’t help noticing—then lets Puchi down on the ground, her leash still wrapped securely around one fist. San follows suit, kneeling beside Wooyoung, but keeping hold of Darong.

“My dog’s name is Puchi,” Wooyoung says. The dog in questions sits patiently, tail wagging excitedly as Chaesoo takes a few tentative steps towards them. “And this is Darong.” He doesn’t reach out to touch Darong, only gestures in San’s direction at the same time he turns his head, bright and stupid smile on his face.

“Can I pet Darong?” Chaesoo whispers, surprising San.

While he’s never considered himself at being particularly great with kids, San finds it natural to open his arms, letting Darong land on his feet and slowly make his way over to the girl. She yelps a little when Darong comes close, rubbing his head against the fabric of her dress.

“He’s very gentle,” San says, a small smile growing on his face. When Chaesoo starts to reach down, San encourages her with a soft, “Go on.”

Darong arches into Chaesoo’s hand when she finally pets him, and she lets out a delighted squeal. San chuckles. _Cute._

“Can I pet Puchi now?” Chaesoo asks, sounding more confident and bold now. She barely waits for San to finish saying yes, reaching out to scritch behind her ears with a giggle.

When she’s finished, Chaesoo steps back then does a wobbly exaggerated bow. “Thank you for letting me pet!” she says before darting back to her mom’s side. Her mom bows shallowly in thanks, taking her daughter’s hand.

“They’re both very calm around each other,” Chaesoo’s mom comments, nodding down as Chaesoo starts to tug her away.

Only then does San take the time to look back down. Darong has wandered over to where Puchi now stands, and the two of them are remarkably calm as they sniff one another curiously.

“I guess they like each other,” says Wooyoung, drawing San’s attention up now that he’s standing.

_Stupid handsome smile_ , but he feels distinctly less annoyed and more...endeared.

“Also, I like your costume,” Wooyoung adds . “Never seen a green haired vampire before. It goes well with the...” He gestures towards San’s mouth. “With the blood.”

“Thanks,” San says, standing himself. He gives Wooyoung a once over. “But what’re _you_ even supposed to be? A basketball player?”

Wooyoung’s mouth drops open. “...Are you kidding?” he says, his voice nearly devoid of the joking sing-songy tone and all shock. “Like, you’ve got to be kidding, right? You seriously don’t know who I am?”

San frowns, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t appreciate you being so condescending to your hyung,” he says, though his lips tug with a teasing smile.

“I’m Troy Bolton!” Wooyoung says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

San purses his lips, then shakes his head. “Don’t know who that is.”

Wooyoung practically shouts, throwing up his arms in disbelief. “You WHAT _?_ ”

San shrugs, smiling properly now. “Am I _supposed_ to know every character in existence?”

“When they’re from High School Musical, yes, you are!” Wooyoung cries, sounding truly distraught. He shakes his head, taking a step forward. “Ok, you’re coming over sometime to watch all three High School Musical movies with me.”

San fakes a look of utter distaste. “There’s _three_ of them?”

Wooyoung steps forward again, leaning close. “ _And_ the sing-a-long versions.”

San rolls his eyes as he giggles. He doesn’t even have time to properly acknowledge just how close they are—close enough for San to notice the few un-dyed strands of hair mixed in with Wooyoung’s fading lavender—before both their attentions are drawn down to the floor, where Puchi and Darong are currently play-fighting, two Stormtroopers rolling around by their feet.

Wooyoung sighs as he reaches down to scoop up Puchi, who’s grown much larger since the first time San had seen her, with a hefty grunt. “I’ll see you?” Wooyoung says, turning to leave and presumably head off to properly enjoy the party.

On the tip of San’s tongue— _But I want to keep talking with you._

And at the back of his mind— _But I want to keep flirting with you_.

“Whenever you want me to watch your movies about singing high schoolers, you know my address,” San says instead.

Wooyoung beams, nodding, then turns to leave.

Somehow, the space beside San feels noticeably colder.

**NOVEMBER**

The fallen autumn leaves crunch under foot at San rushes across campus. Stiff wind stings him, piercing right through his thin and absolutely non-season appropriate coat. He makes a note to start saving up for a new one, as he climbs the stairs of the literature building, breath heaving with every step.

He’s so late. He’s so so _so_ late, and he’s definitely going to get chewed out by Professor Kang and probably be asked to stay passed the end of classes for the day to work on grading and—

San isn’t sure when he went from being upright and running to suddenly splayed on his back on the ground, his tongue stinging from where he’d unknowingly bitten it. He winces, the palms of his hands throbbing too as he pushes himself up. Fuck, he’s a little dizzy too.

“Oh— _shit_ , San-hyung, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” says someone above San, tone tight with worry. The stranger, presumably who San had run into, is offering their hands, and San shakes his head, waiting for the dizziness in his brain to settle down. “I can go grab a professor, o-or, _uh_ , oh man—”

San looks up, blinking against the bright light keeping the stranger in silhouette. “No, it’s…” he starts. Then, his eyes gradually adjust as the world stops spinning.

Wooyoung nervously gnaws at his bottom lip, anxiously wringing his hands. “I’m so sorry,” he says, voice trembling. “I wasn’t—I was looking down at my phone and looked up too late, and next thing I knew—”

San winces, the back of his skill pounding hard in time with his heartbeat. “Think I hit my head,” he murmurs, softly because everything else around him is so _loud_ , loud enough to make his head feel like it’ll implode.

Wooyoung swears, reaching out with his hands again. This time, San does take them, letting himself be pulled off the ground. His stomach does a flip as his world tips sideways and _yeah_ , that’s definitely a concussion.

_Great, just my luck_ , San thinks, shaking his head to try and clear the wave of nausea. He stumbles sideways, falling against Wooyoung.

“The hospital is near here, isn’t it?” Wooyoung says, catching San as he falls and supporting him with an arm around his waist. He starts them in the direction of the exit, half-carrying, half-dragging San.

“Wait, I…” San starts. Even talking makes his head hurt, and he shuts his eyes against the brightness of the sun streaming through the hallway windows. “Professor Kang...have class…”

“Hyung, you probably have a concussion,” Wooyoung says, bringing them both to a stop as he comes to the stairs leading outside. San feels Wooyoung hesitate for a moment, and, with some effort, San manages to open an eye to look toward him.

It happens to be at that exact moment when Wooyoung unceremoniously reaches to scoop San right off the ground.

“ _Wooyoung—_!” San screeches, both eyes flying open. His arms scramble to wrap around Wooyoung’s neck to keep himself steady. Without another word, Wooyoung makes his way down the stairs, carrying San seemingly without much effort. If San’s head wasn’t already pounding, he thinks he’d be a little dizzy with lust.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Wooyoung makes as if to set San down. But, after a pause, he looks down at San, face flushed with effort.

“It’s not that far,” he says simply. Then, he takes off, in a fast walk, towards the hospital, San still in his arms.

When they arrive at the campus hospital, Wooyoung’s out of breath—it had actually turned out to be much farther away than they’d both been expecting—and San’s headache has graduated to a full tilt migraine, so strong he can’t keep his eyes open any longer. Wooyoung does the work of explaining the situation to the student worker at the counter, and San feels himself being set down in a wheelchair. In what feels like the next moment, San’s moved into a bed, where he first tests opening his eyes.

The room is, thankfully, dim, the windows pulled shut and the lights turned to a low setting. His head still hurts—like a bitch, he might add—but the nausea has definitely relaxed. He tries sitting up, pushing himself up using his elbows, then promptly grabs for a trash can beside his bed as he empties the contents of his stomach.

Well. _Now_ the nausea is definitely gone.

Not too long after—and after an awkward experience with a nurse who came and removed the trash can—a doctor comes in for a consultation, leaving San with two painkillers, a sedative, and a cup of water. San forgoes the sedative, feeling more tired than he has in years.

Some time later, San wakes up, feeling...marginally better. He can open his eyes fully, blinking up at the ceiling. He attempts to turn his head from side to side, testing if his headache has receded any, and when he goes, he’s more than a little surprised to find Wooyoung sitting beside him.

“ _Woo_ …?” San starts, wincing. His voice still sounds a bit too loud.

“How do you feel?” Wooyoung whispers.

San sniffs, letting himself lie back in bed. “Better. No more nausea. Headache isn’t as bad, but that might just be the painkillers.”

“Oh. That’s...That’s good.” Wooyoung pauses, and San turns his head again. Wooyoung’s entire body looks tense with nerves and he’s wringing his hands in front of him again.

“Wooyoung-ah.”

At his name, Wooyoung looks up, and he looks exhausted. San opens his mouth to speak again, when Wooyoung suddenly rushes out, “ _I’msosorryforrunningintoyou_.”

“There’s no need to be sorry,” San says.

“The doctor said it’s only a mild concussion, but you’ll have to be on bed rest for at least a week, and I know you work as TA, so that means you can’t go in, and now it’s my fault you won’t be able to go to work—”

“Wooyoung,” says San, much more sternly this time.

Wooyoung’s mouth snaps shut. 

“I’m not mad at you,” San starts. Then, to make sure the other man is properly receiving his point, he pushes himself up onto his elbows again, braced for the wave of nausea this time. When it doesn’t come, he sits up fully, turning to face Wooyoung and meet his eye. “If anything I’m just...embarrassed. By myself.” San feels when his face goes hot, and he ducks his head to avoid looking at Wooyoung directly when he says, “I gave myself a concussion from _falling_ _down_.”

Thankfully, Wooyoung laughs then, drawing San’s attention back up. He already looks less on edge, and San sighs with relief when he notices the hand wringing has stopped.

“Let’s just agree to forget this ever happened,” Wooyoung says, offering his hand.

San nods, lifting his own arm to clasp Wooyoung’s in a hand shake. “Deal.”

“Oh! I nearly forgot,” Wooyoung says suddenly, releasing San’s hand and jumping from his seat. He heads for the door, where San’s coat and messenger bag hang off a hook on the back. 

It’s then that San really... _notices_ how Wooyoung is dressed. With it being late autumn, it’s not a surprise to note the wool coat and plaid scarf he wears, but in looking down, San sees Wooyoung’s wearing what almost looks like a _tailored_ suit. In the time they’ve known each other, San can’t think of any time when he’s seen Wooyoung in anything other than a faded t-shirt, his work uniform, or shirtless (as he preferred to work out in their building’s small gym, much to San’s aroused horror).

San shifts in bed, crossing his legs beneath the covers when Wooyoung turns back around, holding San’s phone in hand.

“What’s the occasion?” San hears himself asking, before he can stop.

Wooyoung tilts his head—like a dog, San can’t help noting—then breaks into an embarrassed shy smile.

“I, uh...was supposed to have an interview,” he says, shuffling back over to his seat beside San’s bed. “With a big company, so I…”

San doesn’t know why that turns him on. Then, he fully absorbs what Wooyoung had said.

“You didn’t...miss it, did you?”

Wooyoung’s flush creeps higher and he ducks his head. “ _Well_ …”

San’s mood drops.

“Oh…I’m sorry, you didn’t have to stay here, you should’ve gone ahead and left—”

“No, it’s—It’s okay,” Wooyoung rushes to say. He clears his throat for a second, then adds, in a much quieter voice, “ _This was more important._ ”

San’s mouth falls open in a small ‘o’ of surprise. Thankfully, Wooyoung changes the subject, showing an email on San’s phone which is essentially a doctor’s note excusing him from classes and work for the following week. San doesn’t really register anything Wooyoung says after that, too hung up with tracing his eyes over the arch of his eyebrows, the slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth.

**DECEMBER**

**wooyoung**

r u home?

**san**

I am. why?

**wooyoung**

could u...come over

and bring darong

San reads over the cryptic text one last time. He pockets his phone, then reaches forward to knock lightly on Wooyoung’s door. He shifts Darong over to rest more comfortably in both arms, to which Darong expresses his thanks with a meow.

The lock beeps, disengages, and Wooyoung throws open the door, his energy palpable. His face breaks out into a large smile.

“Come in!”

San laughs, a little unsure, as he steps over the threshold and into Wooyoung’s apartment. It’s not the first time he’s been inside, but he does pause to take in the interior as he steps up from the entrance.

Wooyoung had said once, sometime just after San had been allowed to head home following his concussion, that, “I am... _aggressively_ into Christmas,” and San had figured he meant he liked Christmas music more than most people, or that he’d been exaggerating just to get San to laugh.

San realizes now, as he stands in Wooyoung’s living room, that he hadn’t been exaggerating in the slightest.

In addition to the fully decked out and enormous tree in one corner, the entire apartment is decked out in Christmas decor, red and green wreaths and tinsel covering every square inch of the walls. On the windows are sticky gel clings of Santa, presents, and snowmen and from...somewhere, San notices, Christmas music plays faintly. The air even smells like Christmas, a mix of cinnamon and pine.

“ _Wow_ ,” breathes San, because what else can he say? The extent of his and Yunho’s decorating had been a mini tree from Daiso with one of Yunho’s JoJo figures stuck on top as the star.

“I just finished setting up,” Wooyoung says, coming up from behind San, “and I wanted to let you be the first to see.”

San finds himself speechless, but in a good way, because dedication like this is something he reserves almost exclusively for things related to Darong.

Speaking of, the cat in question wriggles in San’s arms. San bends to release him onto the floor, and it’s at that moment Puchi comes barreling from the hallway, her collar strung with red tinsel.

“Puchi, don’t—!” Wooyoung cries.

But, to both of their relief, Puchi rolls over onto her back at the same time Darong rears up ready to play fight. They watch their pets play for a moment, when San notices how closer they’re standing.

“They really like each other,” San comments, chancing a glance towards Wooyoung. To his surprise, Wooyoung facing him head on, eyes wide and cheeks red. San faces him, snorting. “What’s with that face?”

The flush spreads to Wooyoung’s ears. “Okay...look, I’m gonna do something really cheesy and I need you to promise you won’t laugh,” he says, hand reaching into the front pocket of his hoodie.

San narrows his eyes. “I can’t promise I won’t laugh if it’s really as cheesy as you say.”

“ _Hyung_ ,” Wooyoung pleads, practically stamping his foot.

San rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright, alright. Out with it, Jung.”

Wooyoung nods, likely psyching himself up, then braces as he pulls out—

“Mistletoe?” San says, eyebrows furrowing as he stares up at the plant pinched between Wooyoung’s index finger and thumb. Then, he understands. “... _Oh._ ”

Wooyoung chuckles nervously, his arm holding the mistletoe faltering for a moment. “ _Ah_ , maybe I’ve been...misreading our relationship lately—”

San cuts him off by closing the distance between them, one hand wrapping around Wooyoung’s wrist to raise the mistletoe higher as their lips press together.

**FEBRUARY**

“While I appreciate you managing to get it in with our hot neighbor,” says Yunho, watching from the kitchen as San tapes up another cardboard box, “do you have to abandon me and move in _right next door_?”

San looks up as he finishes taping, pushing his hair out of his face. “Yes, I do,” he says, standing to heave the box up and move it onto the couch. “Because he’s _my_ boyfriend and _your_ hot neighbor now.”

Yunho points accusingly at San with his spoon. “Is this because I forgot to tell you I was having Hongjoong over last month? I apologized for that!”

“It’s not, and you didn’t _apologize_ , you just said that you’d walk in on me and Wooyoung to make it even,” San says with an exasperated noise, looking over the taped and labeled boxes strewn around the living room. He only has a few boxes to bring over, since he’d practically already moved into Wooyoung over the course of the last few weeks. Now they were just making it official.

The thought makes San smile and his hands tremble a little.

Yunho whines, drawing San’s attention back. “But now I won’t be able to see my son as often!”

San makes a face. “Oh right...about that…” Then, he crosses the room to stand in front of Yunho, holding his hands as he meets his eyes. “You’re being demoted to uncle.”

“ _Uncle?!_ ” Yunho screeches, his spoon dropping out of his mouth and into his bowl of milk. “I practically raised him!”

San shrugs, releasing Yunho’s hands with an amused smile. “Darong can’t have three dads, hyung.”

“ _Yes he can_ ,” Yunho wails.

“I’ve made up my mind,” San says solemnly. “You’re free to visit whenever you want, but you’ll have to accept this new title.”

Yunho makes as if to speak. Then, he presses his lips together, dropping his head dramatically. “I understand,” he concedes. With a hilariously forlorn expression, he looks to Darong, currently curled up on the couch while he naps. “From now on...I am but... _Uncle_ Yunho.”

San barks a laugh, slugging Yunho in the arm. “I’m gonna miss rooming with you.”

Yunho’s mouth forms into a smile, albeit a sad one. “Not to sound gay, but me too, dude.”

“You are literally dating another man.”

“I said not to _sound_ gay, I can still _be_ gay all I want.”

San crosses behind the counter, catching Yunho in a hug when there’s a knock at their door.

“Ready to move everything over?” Wooyoung says when San unlocks and opens the door, that stupid and handsome smile on his face. Then, he peeks his head inside, waving and calling, “Hi, Yunho-ssi!” before coming back to stand in front of San.

Something in San’s chest twinges as he raises on his toes to chastely kiss Wooyoung. “Yeah. Let’s do this thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this fic! this was my first time writing an ateez fic, so please let me know how i did on characterizations! and again, sorry i didn't manage to fit the other 3 members in ;;
> 
> i drew heavily from [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEB4aoyKjpo) as a reference, so i implore you watch one of the softest videos in existence.
> 
> my twitter is [swanfaery](https://twitter.com/swanfaery) where i do occasionally go a little feral for ateez, as a treat :3


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